


i'm a million miles from home

by xxpaynoxx



Series: futbol ficlets [8]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 19:01:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8025352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxpaynoxx/pseuds/xxpaynoxx
Summary: 39) things you said when we first met





	i'm a million miles from home

**Author's Note:**

> This was cute to write.

His first night in Barcelona is numbing, to say the least.

He’s itching on the plane, watching the city come into view. It’s dark, the lights glittering like matches, but it feels alien. He should be at a party, dancing in broken rave lights and drinking a flowery drink.

The airport is near empty, and he can’t help but hang onto his father’s arm as he walks out of the terminal and into the chilly night. His suitcases are loaded into a large black car, and he slides in the backseat as directed.

His father places his hand on the back of his neck, rough fingers flickering across his skin, and he looks up to meet his worried gaze. “Are you alright, Ney?” he whispers, and he shrugs. He’s numb right now, not really comprehending that tomorrow he’s going to be presented at a stadium that he’s wanted to play at ever since he was young.

“I’m fine,” he says through his teeth, the lie cutting his throat as it comes out; but it wasn’t really a lie, was it? Since he couldn’t feel anything, he was probably fine.

His father leaves him alone after that, but not retracting his hand, because he knows him well enough to know that he’s terrified.

…

The presentation goes by fast. The kit feels good on his skin, the red and blue bringing out his arm tattoo, but he’s edgy about more than just doing tricks and the press conference.

Tomorrow is his first day of training. Tomorrow, he gets to meet his idols.

Of course, there’s Dani, who picks him up in the morning, dressed like a mess as usual. He hugs him to his chest, tightly, and claps him on the back before shaking hands with his father.

The ride to the training center is spent listening to music from home, and he curls up on the seat, staring out the window. Dani doesn’t say a word, just puts his hand on his knee when he can, the familiar pressure grounding him and making sure he doesn’t doze off.

He meets Gerard and Jordi first, the two walking up to them and laughing at Dani. They then take a step back, and Jordi giggles. “So, this is the new Brazilian prodigy?” he says in fluent Spanish, and Neymar looks at Dani helplessly. Nobody fucking told him he had to be fluent in _Spanish_  on his first day.

With a little help from Dani, he eventually gets out that Jordi called him a prodigy, and he realizes Spanish isn’t that different from Brazilian; it’s smoother, more eloquent, but not much different. He likes Jordi thought, and Gerard, who tries to speak English to him but he’s lost. He laughs and swings his arm around his shoulders, bringing him in close as they all walk in together.

He’s introduced to the other Brazilians, but he clicks the most with Rafinha. He’s younger, but not by much, and Neymar has heard of Thiago before he even meets him.

But it’s Messi he’s waiting to see, and suddenly he appears, shaking hands with Gerard and laughing at something Jordi says before Dani grabs his arm and directs him to Neymar.

He jabbers on about something to do with introductions, and Messi holds his hand out for him to shake, a shy smile on his face. He must know he doesn’t know any Spanish, because he doesn’t say much, just a simple “Nice to meet you”, and turns and walks away.

His knees wobble, and Dani has to pat him on the back, laughing his ass off. Rafinha joins him, and they’re nearly in stitches laughing.

“Why are you laughing at me?” he says, high-pitched, and Rafinha catches his breath before telling him.

“Your _face,_  man, you looked like you’d just pissed your pants when you shook his hand!” he manages to get out before collapsing into another bout of giggles.

Gerard grabs him then, leading him away from the laughing bunch, and brings him over to Iniesta and Messi, who are passing a ball between each other and talking in rapid Spanish.

“You will fit in with us,” he says in broken Portuguese (he doesn’t ask where he learned that, but he supposes you just pick it up with being around Dani all the time), and when Messi looks at him with that radiant, welcoming smile, he feels at home.

(The rest is history.)


End file.
